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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854997">When is a Cat not a Cat?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroMonster/pseuds/ZeroMonster'>ZeroMonster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Domesticity, Allergies, Animal Transformation, Fighting, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romani Dick Grayson, death anniversary, not who you think</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:26:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroMonster/pseuds/ZeroMonster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When all was said and done, all Dick had been able to say was, <em>Poor Jason, he was a dog person.</em></p><p>Or:<br/>When a sorcerer gets involved during a gang war in Gotham, Jason ends up paying for it. Somehow that’s linked to Dick’s kid neighbour asking him if his cat would eat him if he dies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JayDick Summer Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LullabyDance/gifts">LullabyDance</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the request: Dear Author,<br/>I would like to see some shapeshifter or monster Jaydick? I am always a sucker for wingfic too, if that's more your thing! It's up to you if both boys are not human or only one, I'm always interested in how their dynamics change if there is an otherness to one or both of them!</p><p>I think this fulfills it, I sincerely hope it does. I hope you like it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Word spread on the streets like blood on water that Vasily Kosov - the leader of the Odessa Mob - was shot, that the bullet pierced his right cheek and he spat it out. And that the bullet came from the gun of an Intergang member. </p><p>The Odessa Mob took this as an act of supreme disrespect, and the next day almost all of Midtown was thrown into a gang war. The big fires were put out in the next thirty hours, but the cleanup extended for over a week. Hence why Nightwing was in a warehouse at the Dixon Docks rounding up the last remnants of Intergang.</p><p>“Shouldn’t you be in New York?” A man asked, before Nightwing rolled to avoid the fire and took his legs from under him.</p><p>“I got homesick.” Nightwing shrugged, spinning an escrima stick.</p><p>Just as he threw it to the back of a man trying to escape, he heard it. The cat started yowling like a wild thing and Dick froze for a fraction of a second.  He heard him running over the catwalk and caught a glimpse of a tail as he climbed through a far high window and turned to stare at Dick, expectant.</p><p>“Get out!” Nightwing said, already in motion.</p><p>He used the grappling gun built into his escrima stick to cast the wire around the farthest man and tackled the other two through one of the first floor windows. The explosion caught them mid fall and threw them various feet through the hot air.</p><p>The only thought in Dick’s mind, though, was, <em>get off the roof, get off the roof.</em></p><p>The Nightwing costume protected him from the concrete, his aerialist training saved him from breaking his neck, but the impact still took the air out of his lungs. As soon as he got it back he was on his feet.</p><p>“Jason!” <em>God, no. Not again.</em></p><p>The explosion had blown off the second floor and brought it down, trails of black smoke disappeared into the black sky, but no signs of Jason.</p><p>Then something moved in the shadows and a black cat with a white patch of fur over his right eye stepped into a puddle of dirty moonlight.</p><p>“Oh fuck.” Dick breathed, doubled over with relief, but as he straightened up, he snapped, “I told you this was a bad idea.”</p><p>The cat, naturally, didn’t answer, but threw him a glance that his luminescent green eyes somehow translated as,<em> you’d be dead without me.</em></p><p>Dick wasn’t going to argue, especially since he already felt crazy, talking when Jason couldn’t answer back. Instead he moved to check on the men he’d thrown out of an exploding building and found that dumb luck had saved them.</p><p>After calling for an ambulance, he turned to Jason. “Odessa guys, you think?”</p><p>The dispute between the two gangs had started when the GCPD confiscated a five-ton cargo of drugs from Intergang thanks to a tip, courtesy of the Odessa Mob. Or so the rumor went.</p><p>Jason blinked at him, then rushed down the alley they’d parked the bike in.</p><p>“Yeah, I think so too,” Dick said.</p><p>When the sound of sirens came closer Dick followed Jason down the alley created by rows of crates. A ping alerted him of an incoming message and he raised a hand to his ear to accept it.</p><p>“Batcave. Now.” Bruce’s voice came through the channel and cut the transmission off before Dick could answer.</p><p>The cat was already waiting on the bike’s seat, his black fur almost the same shade as the paint except for the white circle around his eye. </p><p>Bizarrely, the first person he thought of when he looked at the cat wasn’t Jason, it was his father. Dick could still remember when he used to say, <em>'When you see a spotted dog spit for good luck'</em>. John Grayson’s favorite animal has been the pied wagtail, and he’d have loved Jason.</p><p>Dick would’ve raised an eyebrow at Jason’s mimicry of driving, but they were being expected somewhere else.  </p><p>“Jay, B’s got him,” he said.</p><p>Jason went very still, like he was hunting, then he climbed onto the handlebars in what Dick interpreted as anticipation.</p><p>“Yeah, let’s go.”</p><p>=   Ϫ   =</p><p> </p><p>The most famous model of quantum physics said that, technically, a cat locked in a box could be alive or it could be dead. You didn’t know until you looked. Opening the box would determine the state of the cat, although in this case – perhaps more so than for any other cat – there were <em>three</em> states the cat could be in: Alive, Dead, and Fucking Furious.</p><p>When Dick opened the bike’s pet carrier, Jason shot out like a bat out of hell.</p><p>“I could apologize for that, or I could apologize for crashing the bike,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. </p><p>Jason wasn’t the only one suffering from his transformation, Dick’s allergies weren’t something to scoff at, his nose and his eyes started watering and if he didn’t take care of it, he’d start wheezing, and his face would hurt from nasal congestion.</p><p>If he got them killed before he returned the prodigal son to his human body, B might actually do more than fire him this time.</p><p>The first thing he noticed when he entered the open plane of the Cave was Damian. The kid still wore the arm cast he’d acquired during the Intergang-Odessa firefights; Robin had been embarrassed at what he’d considered a failure and Dick had considered goddamned lucky. The second thing he noticed was the man in the holding cell.</p><p>He was a tall, pale man with white hair down to his chin, dressed in black, wearing a sort of half-robe over his shoulders. He’d look like a character out of a horror version of D&amp;D except for his glowing left eye. It smoldered red, and Dick would have thought it was a case of heat vision gone rogue except there was something deeply unnatural about it.</p><p>“Magic,” Jason had spit a week ago in an abandoned building on the bad side of Coventry.</p><p>Thanks to Deathstroke, Dick constantly monitored the channels mercenaries preferred to take up contracts in Gotham, that’s how five days ago he’d received intelligence that a sorcerer had accepted a contract from Integrant to strike the Odessa Mob while he was applying pressure to the bullet wound of a forty year old woman who’d been caught in the crossfire.</p><p>After Batgirl had landed beside him and performed quick field surgery he’d carried the woman to Leslie’s clinic in Crime Alley and took off to trace down the mercenary. He’d found about the meeting between this man, who called himself The Wicked and a group of gang members.  He hadn’t been expecting Red Hood to be there, blood already flaking on his gloves.</p><p>Zatanna had not being available. Something about a pocket dimension and a group of kids with newly acquired magic powers needing her more for the foreseeable future. When all was said and done, all Dick had been able to say was, "Poor Jason, he was a dog person." </p><p>“Is he talking?” He asked Batman now, coming to stand beside him in front of the one way, meta-prof plastiglas of the cell.</p><p>“He just regained consciousness,” Batman said. Dick snorted.</p><p>“Do you want me in there?” He asked.</p><p>“No,” Bruce said, which Dick took to mean he’d take care of it.</p><p>Jason’s relationship with all of them had been volatile since he’d established himself in Gotham’s upper island with base in The Bowery, but it’d been, unsurprisingly, worse between him and Bruce. The most recent gang war had been a walk in the park compared to the cataclysm that Batman and Red Hood colliding had been.</p><p>Dick had discovered two things in quick succession on those early days: first, that his predecessor was back from the death with a gift for turning vigilantism into a blood sport; and second, that Bruce would never see Jason as someone other than the son whose broken body he’d cradled in his arms. Not even when Jason returned to Gotham after his attempt to kill the Joker and rapists started disappearing in The Narrows.   </p><p>One night, in one of those rare occasions Dick was back in Gotham for more than vigilante work, he’d sat in front of the Batcomputer and hacked the communications device in Batman’s cowl.</p><p>“Are you going to save me Bruce, or just hunt me down?” Jason had snarled in a way that had made it very easy to imagine the blood on his teeth.</p><p>Dick figured they were still figuring it out. Or maybe they never would.</p><p>“Did he break anything?” Dick asked, coming to sit with Damian on a worktable. They faced the holding cell and got comfortable.</p><p>“Fingers,” Damian said. “Some magic users need them to do magic, and Father needed him to be able to talk, so no broken jaw.”</p><p>Damian was the reason Dick had taken Jason while Batman tracked down the sorcerer who had turned him into a cat. In the painful maelstrom of love and hate that made up Bruce and Jason, Damian wouldn’t have had a place until Jason returned to normal. And depending of the state <em>that</em> left Bruce in, maybe not even then.</p><p>“I already told you,” said sorcerer was saying. “I can’t turn him back.” He was hunched in on himself, favoring his left side. His eyes were covered with a metal band with runes drawn on it. It was probably Diana’s, and she probably didn’t even know she was missing it.</p><p>Dick tensed, that didn’t bode well for Jason. He scanned the Cave for the shape he’d become accustomed to in the past days, and found him at the very top of the T-Rex’s model. The cat’s tail was twitching, a sign Jason was nervous and, if this had been back at Dick’s apartment, close to digging his claws into a tender spot. </p><p>“I don’t believe you,” Batman growled. “Every spell has a counter spell.”</p><p>“Do I look like Doctor Fate to you?” The man snapped. “I’m working with more basic stuff here, I cannot wrap reality. Transformation is some of the most basic magic, like… physics. Do you know of a non-theoretical process that’s one hundred percent reversible?”</p><p>“You can’t do it, but he will turn back.” Batman threatened more than asked after a short silence.  </p><p>“… If by now he hasn’t done it at least temporarily, then no.”</p><p>Batman left the cell without another word.</p><p>“I prefer him as a cat,” Damian said.</p><p>“Damian,” Dick scolded, but was more preoccupied with catching Bruce’s gaze as he exited the cell.</p><p>The weight of Bruce’s look was almost physical when they locked eyes. Dick nodded. Jason climbed down from the dinosaur.</p><p>The second night Jason had stayed at his apartment, Dick had been woken up in the first hours of the morning by a sound like a door breaking. Dick had come out of his room to find it’d been the table, not the door, and instead of a black cat sleeping on the couch he’d found himself staring at a very confused, very human vigilante.</p><p>Of course, soon that confusion had turned into anger and with nowhere else to direct it at, Jason had sneered and faster than he could say, <em>holy shit, Batman,</em> he’d punched Dick in the face. </p><p>They’d fought for as long as a minute, knocking over the few furniture Dick owned and the pile of cardboard boxes that still littered the floor of the apartment. Then Jason had gotten tired and reversed back into cat form in the middle of a triangle choke. The next day he’d vomited on Dick’s carpet.</p><p>That’s why Dick didn’t interfere when Damian picked Jason up and carried him away to play while he and Bruce met in front of the Batcomputer.</p><p>“You think he’s lying?” Bruce asked.</p><p>“He’s street-level,” Dick said. “He knows he’s going to end up in Belle Reve sooner rather than later, he’s got no reason to lie. Still, maybe e-mail Zatanna, do they have email in pocket dimensions?”</p><p>“She had a cellphone, I don’t see why not,” Bruce said, but his words created a paradox with the way he looked: tired, worried, angry, and a lot of other things Dick found himself sighing to.</p><p>“I think Jason should stay with me until he’s back to normal, or at least until we can get a competent magician on board,” Dick said. And miracle of miracles, Bruce agreed.</p><p> </p><p> =   Ϫ   =</p><p> </p><p>After a drive to his apartment on the outskirts of Robinson Park – and another pet carrier trip for Jason – Dick showered and made dinner. Jason ate from his plate.</p><p>“Do you use the things I bought him?” Damian had asked over the hissing and snarling as Dick had tried to wrangle the cat back into the box.</p><p>As soon as Damian had realized that he could pamper another cat without having to add him to his menagerie, he’d gone all in. Jason had ended with a self-warming pet pad he refused to sleep in, a litter box with aromatic sand he refused to use, toys he’d yet to acknowledge, and a set of steel bowls that, well.</p><p>Dick gave up on his food and went to take stock of his cuts and bruises, wondering if the smugness he was detecting from Jason was imagined or not.</p><p>That morning, it happened again. This time it took him more time to pinpoint what had woken him up, he was on his feet when he heard it again: a sound like an aborted scream. The sight of Jason in his home was probably more visceral this time due to the fact that the man was in the middle of a sleep terror.</p><p>Jason had sat up upright on the couch, he was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when Dick had seen him catch the brunt of a magic spell before falling through a three story window. That’s to say he was in full Red Hood get up minus the helmet, his face was bare. And terrified.</p><p>Jason's breathing was fast and loud, the loudest thing in the whole building, he was sweating, but what caught Dick’s attention was his stillness. Most people trashed in the middle of night terrors, but apart from the rising and falling of his chest, Jason was immovable. Inconsolable. </p><p>If it were someone else Dick would’ve touched them, try to offer comfort. But this was Jason; with him touch was like a poisoned cup of water for a parched throat. Instead he sat at Jason’s feet, waiting for the episode to pass, alert in case he tried to hurt himself.</p><p>When Jason exhausted himself, he turned, in the blink of an eye, back into the cat that reminded Dick of family.</p><p>He was never going to get used to that.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason woke up in a patch of sunlight in a room he didn’t recognize. His morning was then promptly ruined when he remembered everything that had happened in the past week: the fuckwit sorcerer, the Cave, Dick. He laid there for a while, as if his own body would return to him if he waited a little more. </p><p>Then he noticed he was ravenous, and went to wake Dick up. Being stuck in this form was a chimeric form of suffering, but it did have one silver lining. </p><p>He pushed Dick’s door open – he needed to fix it, and really, if at his point he hadn’t, Jason was going to take it as an invitation – he padded to the bed and jumped, landing on Dick’s pillow. </p><p>The clock read half past twelve and he only had to wait eight minutes before Dick sneezed himself awake. Then he climbed over the bedside table to avoid the hand Dick threw out to push him off the bed.</p><p>“Fuck. You,” Dick said, and he already sounded congested. Life was a little better again.</p><p>Jason bypassed the sandbox altogether – he would have to kill Damian, which was a pity since he’d liked the brat, before – and pushed the living room’s window open to take care of business outside. When he climbed back inside, Dick was just padding out of his room, and he stopped to admire his bedhead, which broke the laws of physics every morning.</p><p><em>It’s as wild and crazy as Dick himself</em>, he thought. </p><p>When he noticed Jason, he glared at him as he snatched a box of antihistamines from the kitchen counter, swallowing one tablet dry. </p><p>For a second, an image superimposed the scene before him, like a ghost: Robin instead of Dick, there and gone again like flutter cuts. Jason had never met Dick as Robin, only saw him fly once over Crime Alley when Jason had still lived there, and even now he didn't know if it that had been real or if he'd seen what he'd wanted to see. </p><p>If the last one was true, that hadn't been the last time he'd made up visions of Dick as Robin. It'd been so common that once, when he'd crawled out of a car crash not long after he'd crawled out of the pit, he'd looked up through the blood in his eyes to find Robin standing over him.</p><p>"Dick?" He'd asked.</p><p>"No," the hallucination had answered. </p><p>Jason blinked and returned to the present, to Dick – taller, best trained, with more scars and less temper – preparing breakfast in his small apartment. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Dick asked. He was giving him a strange look, probably wondering why the cat was staring unblinkingly at him.</p><p>“Whatever,” Dick said, breaking their stare contest. “Food’s ready.”</p><p>Jason’s stomach growled at the mention of food, reminding him of how hungry he was. He’d been feeding himself since he was seven, and for a while he’d even fed his mom. Then came Batman, the Manor, and Alfred and it’d taken Jason a while to stop stealing food from the cabinets and storing it in his own bedroom in case of an emergency. </p><p>Having to wait for Dick to cook something edible had been one of the worst parts of being turned into a cat. He <em>hated </em>being dependent on someone else, and after Bruce, he’d sworn never again. </p><p>Atop the kitchen counter he took a piece of Dick’s omelet – sans cheese – in his mouth and gave it a little shake before eating it. He didn't notice the thoughtful look Dick was giving him.</p><p>“Did you know you have night terrors?” Dick asked, shoving egg into his mouth. </p><p>Jason tensed. </p><p>“You turned human last night during an episode,” Dick said, and busied himself with the carrying dishes to the kitchen. “I have a theory that turning human takes a lot of energy from you and when your body needs to rest, it goes back to being a cat. We can only hope it gets easier with time.”</p><p>Jason was, indeed, aware that he suffered from night terrors, not because he remembered them, but because every room in every safehouse he’d had was filled with cameras, including the one he slept in. It was just another shitty aftereffect of the trauma of being alive. </p><p>But the subconscious was a bitch, and maybe something about the warehouse explosion, or the visit to the Cave had triggered last night’s episode. His training under the League had included a healthy amount of demolitions, and as a cat he was really fast; realistically, Nightwing had been in more danger than him. </p><p>On the other, crappier hand, even with the band now covering his eyes, Jason remembered the burning red of the mystic’s eye. When those magical flames had surrounded him, he’d been back in a much different warehouse and his mind had gone blank except for the screaming. </p><p>All he could see, all he could feel was the fire of the explosion that had blown him up. It had seemed to last for hours, until it’d blessedly stopped as he reached the edge of an open window and fell backward to the ground. </p><p>He’d woken up at Dick’s apartment. </p><p> </p><p>=   Ϫ    =</p><p> </p><p>He still didn't know why Dick had let him inside the garage.</p><p>It was a corner garage behind the stairs of his apartment complex, it had better security than Dick’s apartment and didn’t just store Nightwing’s bike, but also a computer, a small industrial laser cutter, and a table with half finished blueprints and designs. </p><p>Jason would’ve never let Dick inside his own workshop, let alone let him get close and personal with his projects, not even if he'd been turned into a cat. But for as long as he's been staying with him, they'd spent every evening down here. </p><p>It was just another way Dick was a better person than him, he supposed, feeling bitterness in the back of his throat. </p><p>“I’ll keep working on that rappelling gun I told you about,” Dick said. He was much more chattier here than back at the apartment, less awkward. He was clearly more comfortable showing him his strucured professional life, rather than his messy personal life, but he'd still put Jason on his couch. </p><p>Jason let the constant stream of words wash over him while he walked among a stack of wheels at the back of the room, continued his wandering over Nightwing’s bike, and finally climbed an electrical engine on the table. All traces of movement that Dick left everywhere he went. </p><p>Jason's place, on the other hand, screamed permanence, from the amount of money he'd spent in the security system, to the wall of windows that showed the same Gotham horizon everyday, unfailingly. </p><p>When the night came, they made their way silently back to the apartment. One of Dick's neighbours caught them on their way up, though, and they stopped to greet her and her son.</p><p>“Hi, Carmen, Victor,” Dick said, ruffling the kid’s hair and receiving a brilliant grin in return. “Long day?” </p><p>“Hi, Dick. Sweetheart, saluda,” Carmen said. “Yeah, long shift and I’m training the new nurse, so now it’s like I have two kids.”</p><p>“Hi, Dick,” the kid said dutifully, and when he noticed Jason, he exclaimed, “You have a cat!”</p><p>“I thought you had allergies? Is that why you look like you’ve been crying?” Carmen tsked. </p><p>“Yeah,” Dick said, rubbing the back of his neck. </p><p>“If you die and there’s no food, would the cat eat you?” Victor asked. Jason’s brain screeched to a halt.</p><p>“What?” Dick asked.  </p><p><em>What the fuck</em>, Jason thought.</p><p>“Sorry.” Carmen shrugged. “I think my work has dessintetized him to death.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Dick laughed. “It's late, though.” He made a move for the stairs. “I’ll see you later!”</p><p>Jason threw the kid a last look before following after him. </p><p>After Dick emerged from the bedroom, fully changed into the Nightwing costume he said, “You’re not coming with me tonight.”</p><p>Hackles raised, Jason hissed at him. </p><p>“Surprisingly, the answer is still no,” he said.</p><p><em>Asshole</em>, Jason thought.</p><p>“I’ll see you at daybreak,” Dick said, and left through the window. </p><p>All the better, Jason had his own plans. But then Dick peeked his head back in, mildly startling Jason.</p><p>“Water, water! I forgot to leave you water!” He said. Jason huffed in annoyance. </p><p>Dick went into the living room and filled one of the bowls with water, fully knowing that Jason wouldn't touch anything from the food bowl, even less if it was so close to the litter box! Then he was gone.</p><p>Not a minute later, he was back.</p><p>“The lights! The lights! The lights.”</p><p>Jason swiped at his feet with unsheathed claws but missed him as he walked inside the apartment, turning every light on his way in. </p><p>“The laptop! the laptop!” He turned on his heels and went inside the bedroom, bringing his work laptop back with him. </p><p>Jason blinked at him as he deposited it on the floor. “If you get bored you can read these criminal cases and talk to me about them... later.” With a few keystrokes he pulled up a couple of files on the screen for easy access to Jason.</p><p>Dumbass. </p><p>=   Ϫ    =</p><p> </p><p>These are the most common signs of an upcoming gang war: Abnormally large shipments of weapons trying to enter the city, street and mid-level drug operations trading hands, and an increase in visits for the street workers. </p><p>Jason monitored the docks, the alleys and the corners like an experienced sailor monitored the wind, but he hadn’t accounted for the one gang he needed to keep a closer eye on: the cops. </p><p>He proceeded to correct that, uploading all the information that Oracle - and by extension Nightwing - had collected about the GCPD to his own storage server. Or he tried to. He’d used keyboards with all of the fingers of both hands broken, but when he was done this time, he was left longing for opposable thumbs if only so that he could shoot the laptop to hell.</p><p>He’d made contact with a few people who needed to keep updating him, plus Sofia Falcone, who he’d made a deal with during the gang war. She’d gotten a bit of leeway at the docks that Red Hood controlled, and he’d gotten borrowed men to form a discrete perimeter around schools until the gang war ended. </p><p>By the time he was done it was close to morning and even though he’d napped in the garage, he was tired again. </p><p>
  <em>To sleep or not to sleep? That is the question.</em>
</p><p>He let his eyes close to the soft ping of the laptop erasing any activity from the last twenty four hours. When he woke up, he was human again.</p><p>Jason could feel it this time, a stirring under his skin, then a feeling like surfacing after a lot of time sinking. Unlike the previous times he’d transformed, this time he was coherent, and his mind was clear enough to assess his state and go look for a mirror. </p><p><em>Thank fuck</em>, he thought, when he could recognize his reflection. </p><p>After the pit, he’d felt like he’d waited a long time for his mind to return to his body, Talia had told him that she’d waited even longer. For months after he’d come back he’d felt like he couldn’t see because some kind white noise had surrounded him. The first time he’d looked into a mirror he'd been well into his training and he’d been surprised to find that he’d grown up. He’d been worried that this time it’d be worse. </p><p>Jason was so caught up on his relief that he was startled by the sound of the window opening. Muscle memory made him raise one of his twin pistols at the intruder, and that's how he welcomed Dick home.</p><p>“Jason,” he said looking up at him.</p><p>“Dick,” he answered. His voice was a little rough.</p><p>“Get that gun off my face,” Dick said. Jason kept it there for a beat, before pulling it away.</p><p>They stayed there, taking each other in. Dick was still wearing a domino, but Jason had spent the last days doing little but watching him, the blue of his eyes was burned in the back of his mind. </p><p>Suddenly, it caught up to him: Dick rescuing him and bringing him back to his place, making him food and letting him sleep on his couch. <em>It should’ve been Bruce</em>, he thought, but that only made his mind reel back like it’d been burned. </p><p>No, it shouldn’t have happened at all. He’d cut ties with them for a reason, because otherwise the only thing they did was tear into each other, and at first it’d been enough, but not anymore. It shouldn’t have happened, but it <em>did</em>, and they were here now, in Dick’s home. </p><p>Jason had killed his chance at reconciliation, and whatever his 'family' tried now, it was too little, too late. His mind felt like a wishbone cracking, and finally, he broke.</p><p>“I’m not going back,” he said, flatly. “This changes nothing.”</p><p>Dick looked at him for a long time, eyes narrowed, lips tight. There was a bruise forming in the corner of his mouth. </p><p>“You think I’m expecting it to fix anything? I just -” Dick laughed without humor. “You’re a paranoid asshole, you know that?”</p><p>“Then what?” He snapped. “What do you want from me?” </p><p>What did he expect in return for helping Jason? <em>Quid pro quo</em> was the way they’d been working since Jason had stopped actively targeting the bats. He sometimes tipped Nightwing with information about a case and Dick put in a good word with the capes that he wasn’t a mindless, wild, killing machine. And that was it. </p><p>“Nothing!” Dick said, striding past him. He gripped the back of the couch and turned again to face him, he could tell he was gearing up for something. “Listen Jason, I’m sorry -” </p><p>“Don’t want to hear it.” He scoffed. </p><p>“Then what?” Dick echoed. “<em>What</em> do you want to hear? That it should’ve been me?”</p><p>Jason restrained a flinch. <em>But if it had</em> <em>been him, the clown would already be dead</em>, a voice in the back of his mind said. </p><p>“Shut up,” he snapped. Dick bared his teeth, as if he’d been talking to him.</p><p>“You killed so many people,” Dick said, leaning back against the couch. “And <em>still </em>he’d have taken you back.”</p><p>He’d dropped a light in gasoline, and Jason could burn for days.</p><p>“You don’t get it.” Jason smiled, feeling like it was halving his face. “None of you do.”</p><p>“Oh, I get it,” Dick said softly, dangerous. He bridged the distance between them, he was almost close enough to touch. “But <em>we</em> don’t kill.” </p><p>“Dickie, do you see a bat on my chest?” Jason asked like he was telling a secret. </p><p>Dick’s domino lenses retreated, showing his eyes and the emotion in them, before he took a step back.</p><p>“No,” he said. “Not a <em>bat</em>.”</p><p>He gestured at the place where an R used to rest over his heart. Jason caught his wrist and felt his bones shift under his fingers.</p><p>“You still think you’re better than Batman?” Dick asked.</p><p>“I know it,” he said, shrugging. When Dick laughed in his face, he said with extra arrogance, “If you don’t believe me that's fine, at least I didn’t let my city get nuked.”</p><p>He saw Dick readying to punch him, and adrenaline shot through his body, leaving him oddly tired in its wake. This time he almost didn’t feel it, he only realized he had transformed back until Dick stared down at him and said, “Oh, <em>come on!</em>”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he came back from the bakery, the cat was still asleep on the couch. Dick was up way earlier than usual, but it was for a good reason. </p><p>He went into his room, pastry between his teeth, and began digging into one box labeled ‘clothes’, he came back up successfully with what he was looking for and laid it carefully on the bed, then went to take a shower.</p><p>He padded out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips, to find Jason inspecting his dad’s leather jacket.<em> Human</em> Jason. Dick stopped in his tracks.</p><p>It wasn’t that Jason hadn’t seen him half naked – or worse – before, but that had been a long time ago, and it occurred to him that this would’ve been less awkward if Jason was still a cat.</p><p>“Going somewhere?” Jason asked, eyebrow raised behind a shock of white hair. </p><p>The morning sun brought up the freckles dusting his cheeks, it caught on the green of his eyes and the white of his bared canines. It was the first time since he’d come back that Dick had seen him during the day. He was younger like this, somehow. From the roguish scar over his eyebrow, to the boyish yut of his knuckles. His face was smooth, no residue of unease in his expression. </p><p><em>Oh, we’re not talking about last night?</em> He thought. Yeah, that sounded like them.</p><p>“Actually, yeah,” Dick said, stepping away to look for some clothes.</p><p>“A date?” Jason asked, almost teasing. Dick huffed a laugh, surprised.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll bite, where are we going?”</p><p>Dick paused in the process of putting on a shirt to stare wryly at him.</p><p>“We?”</p><p>“You think I’m staying here alone with nothing to do?” Jason rolled his eyes. “Not a chance, not again.”</p><p>Dick just stared at him some more. Jason stared right back. </p><p>“You have to change,” he finally said.</p><p>“You have something here that’ll fit me?” Jason made a show of looking at him head to toe. It was Dick’s turn to roll his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, wait here,” he said, and went back to the ‘clothes’ box.</p><p>He fished out a pair of jeans and a threadbare shirt which had belonged to Roy, who’d forgotten them at his place somewhere between Blüdheaven and New York, what seemed forever ago. </p><p>Jason took the clothes with a strange look on his face but didn't say anything. He was strangely shy when he wasn’t flaunting taunts.  </p><p>“Breakfast’s on the counter, do you know how long you’ll stay like that?” <em>Human</em>.</p><p>“How would I know?” Jason said, already halfway to the kitchen.</p><p>“Fair enough,” Dick said. </p><p>It’d be certainly different to take Jason with him, but nothing would stop Dick from visiting his family that day.</p><p>Jason didn’t just eat his breakfast, he also raided Dick’s fridge for chow mein leftovers before promptly turning back into a black cat. </p><p>So much for staying human. </p><p>Dick coughed as the cat peered up at him, already feeling the roof of his mouth itch. He went to look for some Benadryl and Jason followed him, kind of defeating the purpose. He climbed up to Dick’s shoulders because, apparently, he still wanted to kill him, this time he’d just be more subtle about it.</p><p>“What?” Dick asked.</p><p>Jason narrowed his eyes at him, they were even more unnaturally green in this form. The cat burrowed inside Dick’s jacket and he freezed in shock. He looked down to see two black, triangular ears peek from his collar, and then it clicked.</p><p>“No,” he said. “You’re traveling in the pet – in the <em>bike</em> carrier, we're not doing this.”</p><p>Jason looked up at him, unimpressed, then climbed out of his jacket, not before sneezing in Dick’s face.</p><p>“Son of a –” He cut off sneezing. Then went to wash his face.</p><p>On their way out, they met Carmen and Victor again, this time just as they were leaving their own apartment.</p><p>“Hi Dick, how – oh,” Carmen said, smile fading as she stared at his face.</p><p>“Yeah, I know, I already took my medicine.” He winked at Victor. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Dick! I got a book from the library!” The kid said.</p><p>“That’s great.” From the corner of his eye he saw Jason approach curiously, stopping between Dick’s feet. Victor’s attention went to the cat.</p><p>“He won’t be diving straight for human flesh,” he proclaimed. “In the nineties two re-sear-chers analyzed four donated bodies and estimated that the average male offers about 125, 822 calories from protein and fat,” the kid said, this time staring right into Dick’s eyes.</p><p>Dick opened his mouth, then closed again.</p><p>“You’re so smart, cielo.” Carmen laughed nervously. “Why don’t we let Dick get on with his day, hmm?” </p><p>Jason’s tail was swaying where he sat, either pleased or anxious to leave. Dick decided to interpret it as the second, and took his leave with a last smile to mother and son.</p><p>This time it was less of an ordeal to get Jason into the pet carrier. Barely.</p><p> </p><p> =  Ϫ  =</p><p> </p><p>He could hear Jason shift around in his box as they rode over the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, it only got worse when Wayne Manor came into sight.</p><p>Dick sighed and kept driving.</p><p>The last time they’d visited the Manor they’d done so for vigilante business, not in any personal capacity, and he could see how Jason could cope with the first, but not so much the second. It was tempting, though, in the past it’d occurred to him that the only way to make Bruce and Jason talk to each other would be to force them physically together. Jason as a cat was fast, but Dick was faster.</p><p>When they touched land again, he veered right instead of left and Jason felt silent mid-howl. Dick took the path to Gotham’s Cemetery and thought, <em>maybe another time</em>.  </p><p>Dick bough the two largest floral arrangements in the flower shop and began taking the path to his parent’s grave. On the way there he came upon a funeral, a group of people in black clothes standing around a casket, their stoic faces marked deep by grief. His parent's funeral had been a strange contrast, Bruce had been there, and he’d seemed taken aback at the public display of grief. Even now he didn't know if it had been like that because they were circus people or because they weren't accostumed to western traditions.</p><p>Dick jumped over a low railing separating the walk path from the graves, balancing the flowers in his arms, he caught Jason squeezing through the bars. He walked over the perfectly manicured grass, careful not to step on any graves and finally made it to his destination.</p><p>His parents were buried side by side, two large marble headstones gorgeously carved into circus tents marked their resting place, a concept that made Romai travelers smile misteriously. </p><p>Dick kneeled down to lay his flowers in front of the headstones and touched his hand to the oval framed pictures of his parents that painted them as they were, prior to their death, in black ceramic. Every year they looked younger.</p><p>“They died today almost two decades ago,” he said to Jason, who had closed the distance to peer at the photos.</p><p>After arranging the flowers to his satisfaction he straightened back up and walked the few steps to the granite bench that Bruce had requested so Dick could sit and talk with his parents for as long as he needed. Jason climbed next to him. </p><p>“Do you know where your mom’s buried?” Dick asked, only because Jason couldn't answer. </p><p>Jason flopped down onto the bench and curled himself under the sun.</p><p>Dick stayed silent while he tried to remember as much as he could about John and Mary Grayson. He had few of his parent’s belongings, in part because it was custom to sell the dead’s possessions due to the belief that they were infused with their presence, and keeping them would extend and nourish grief. Dick didn’t resent that, he would always have Robin. </p><p>Thinking about his parents brought memories of the time he’d visited Jason’s grave much as he was doing now. Really, it was good to see him as anything other than a ghost in his dreams.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re alive,” Dick said, breaking the reprieve.</p><p>Jason whipped his head up, staring at him unblinkingly, ears twitching, and tail swaying back and forth erratically. Dick ignored him, Jason didn’t want him to apologize, but he wouldn’t pretend that his death hadn’t changed him. It’d taken the shine out of the vigilante life, and suddenly the weight of responsibilities and consequences and a legacy came crashing down on him. And when Jason had come back he’d shaken the foundations of Dick’s life anew. </p><p>As if sensing the sentimentality of his thoughts, Jason sat up, teeth bared for sinking.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Dick said, petting him.</p><p> </p><p> =  Ϫ  =</p><p> </p><p>Dick was working on a case, files strewn around him on the floor, the coffee table and the couch; since that last one was occupied by financial records, personnel files, and drug sheets, certain black cat had taken residence in his room, where he was perched on the windowsill, watching the birds fly around the birdfeeder.</p><p>The case had initially been Batman’s, but when Dick had found out it involved the Italian mafia, he’d taken it up to himself to solve it before it could reach Huntress. She had enough on his plate right now. </p><p>Two women had been found dead at their homes in the same night. Both accountants at a pharmaceutical company, both had been poisoned with a modified drug that was still in the works. Batman thought it was about the money, and the fact that the company was laundering money for the Inzerillos. Problem was, there was no indication that either woman had known about the illegal activities of their CEO. </p><p>Dick rubbed his eyes and considered that he was old enough to start taking care of his eyesight. He’d have to make an appointment with the optometrist and stop reading small print by the poor afternoon light. The sunrays draped over the living room floor and extended down the hallway until they reached the bedroom. Following the light, he turned his head to find the cat curled into the sliver of light in the middle of Dick’s room.</p><p>Stretching, Dick extended his arms into the warm sun and his shadows creped over the hallway’s wall. Grinning, he curled one hand around another, leaving the thumbs on top to form a pair of ears, and the pinkies for the mouth. Jason stirred and looked up to observe the shadow-dog play on the wall in his direct line of vision. Dick mimicked barking with his hands and Jason’s tail began to sway.</p><p>Someone knocked on the door and immediately Dick dropped his hands to his lap. With one last look at Jason, who remained in the same spot, he raised up to answer the door. <em>Oh</em>, he thought. Somehow, he hadn’t been expecting a civilian visit.</p><p>“Hi, Dick,” the woman at the door said. She was around Dick’s age, wore brown hair past the shoulders and a shy smile.</p><p>“Hi, Lily,” Dick said, conjuring a grin, which wasn’t hard, since his neighbor was balancing a plate of cookies that smelled delicious. “When did you get back?” He asked, remembering that she was a writer, and she’d been sequestered at a retreat for the last two months.</p><p>Before going she’d asked him, only half joking, to look up if it was legit, or a creative way to kidnap young women. In Gotham you never knew.</p><p>“Are you busy?” She asked, shifting the plate on her hands.</p><p>He paused, shooting a glance at the incriminating evidence in the living room. A writer wouldn’t even bat an eye at it.</p><p>“If you don’t mind the mess, come in,” he said, opening the door further.</p><p>“Oh, no I don’t mind, I get it,” she said as she entered the apartment. “When I write, my life becomes only that. My apartment could burn down, my car could get stolen, and my cat could explode and I wouldn’t notice.”</p><p>He laughed. “Speaking of which, I got a cat recently, he should be here somewhere…”</p><p>“Then I’m staying here,” she said, hovering on the kitchen’s entrance. “I know some cats are very territorial.”</p><p>“You have no idea.” He smirked sardonically.</p><p>“Oh,” she exclaimed, as if just remembering something. “These are for you.”</p><p>“Thank you, you shouldn’t have bothered,” he said, taking the cookies.</p><p>“Not a bother,” she said, blushing. Dick smiled good-naturedly.</p><p>He turned to leave the cookies on the counter and from the corner of his eye he saw Jason approach down the hallway, his feline grace giving his movements a vicious edge as his unnervingly green gaze landed on Lily, his pupils were vertical-slits.</p><p>“Are those your parents?” She asked, shaking him to the core for a fraction of a second.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” he said when he followed her gaze to the framed poster of The Flaying Graysons that he kept on the TV stand. He didn’t have a TV, so the poster took most of the space. “It’s beautiful. Who’s this?” She said as he approached her.</p><p>He looked down, frowning in confusion at the photograph she cradled in his hands. It was of a woman in her thirties, in the picture she had one hand raised to push short dark hair behind her ear. He had no idea who she was, nor where it had come from.</p><p>At least he didn’t until his eyes fell to the corner of the photo, where a kid with black, wild curls clung to her, and then his mind made the leap from this picture to the ones kept in the Batcomputer’s archives of Catherine Todd.</p><p>He had no idea when Jason had brought the picture of his mother to Dick’s apartment, or <em>why</em>, but even as his thoughts began circling in his mind like wild dogs, it felt like a punch to the gut.</p><p>And then a low growl coming from above him brought him back to the situation at hand. He followed the sound to the form of Jason crouched on top of a bookshelf, claws out and ready for leaping, hissing at them. Abruptly the cat dived down and Dick just barely caught him before he clawed Lily’s eyes out.</p><p>“Are you crazy, what’s wrong with you?” He yelled.</p><p>Lily yelped, finally catching up to the situation.</p><p>“I stand corrected, very territorial,” she said, then under her breath, “And possibly murderous.”</p><p>Dick was still scuffling with the cat and only vaguely heard her excuse herself and close the door behind her as she left.</p><p>This time, <em>he</em> sneezed in Jason’s face.</p><p>  </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flying over Gotham’s streets was the best feeling in the world. The city was carved open by crime and the streets were drenched in it, but anything turned poetic if it bled enough, and Jason could sing praises to his city. </p><p>Batman had made his point, and it was impossible to appeal to either his heart or logic, he wouldn’t - or couldn’t - change his crime fighting methods. Even years later Jason couldn’t understand it, but had come to accept it - like one accepts a bullet lodged inside the body that can’t be removed for fear of bleeding out -. It didn't change the fact Gotham needed more, and Jason could deliver. </p><p>He’d started in Crime Alley, as they all did in one way or another, and he’d made sure people became aware of his presence, of what it meant. Then he’d started patrolling the whole neighborhood, and months later Red Hood’s presence had been well known in not just The Bowery, but The Narrows as well. He’d left Otisburg and Gotham Village alone on purpose. Both civilians and the bats were easier to deal with when they thought he had a blind spot. </p><p>It felt right to be back on business. </p><p>“I need a diversion,” Oracle had said through Nightwing’s comm earlier that day.</p><p>“I’m flattered,” Dick had said, smirking at Jason, as if he was in on the joke. “Used as a diversion in my own case.”</p><p>They had been eating on Dick’s couch, it’d been a whole day since Jason had turned into a cat, but his appetite had gone exponentially more voracious. Dick had humored him, ordering enormous amounts of takeout that the two of them attacked with gusto. Jason kept telling himself that <em>that</em> was the only reason he hadn’t left yet.</p><p>The picture of his mother he'd retrieved from his old room at the manor was evidence that he was lying.</p><p>Added to this was the occasional homemade meal that Dick's neighbours kept bringing over. Although Jason didn't want them there, he noticed Dick seemed to keep them all at arm's length. It made him regret the dig he'd made about Blüdheaven getting nuked.</p><p>“Do you want me to say it? You were right,” Barbara had said, amused. “The ex did it. He works in the lab and he murdered victim number one, Alicia S., when she broke up with him.”</p><p>“And she shared a cubicle in accounting with victim number two, Meredith T.,” Dick had finished. “She was collateral.”</p><p>Although his training as Robin had included a crash course with Nightwing on forensics, it was always exciting watching Dick solve a case before Bruce.</p><p>“Right, but there’s a problem,” Barbara had said, bitter.</p><p><em>Of course there is</em>, Jason had thought.</p><p>“There’s a couple of IR tests for a substance that doesn’t check with anything in Gotham Pharmaceutical’s catalogue.” </p><p>“You think he was experimenting with another drug?” Dick had paused, food halfway to his mouth.</p><p>“Correct, more precisely, I think he was experimenting on <em>himself</em>.”</p><p>There had been a beat in which Dick and Jason stared at each other. </p><p>“Alright, what’s the plan? Where is B?” </p><p>“... Leading the interrogation of The Wicked at the Watchtower, he finally made contact with Doctor Fate.”</p><p>Jason had pierced his takeout cup with the fork and pushed it aside, fumming. There went his chance at revenge. </p><p>A lot of evenings spent as a Bombay cat had found him on the roof, pacing along the length of it to work off his frustrations. More than once it'd occurred to him to make a run for it. The sorcerer was at the Batcave, and he imagined what he'd do to him for turning him into a fucking housecat when he got his hands on him.</p><p>He’d tuned out both Barbara and Dick until he’d heard his name.</p><p>“Also, bring Jason,” Barbara had said.</p><p>“Why?” Dick had asked, shooting Jason a glance, as if checking if he was still human.</p><p>“Because I’m ninety five percent sure the new drug is a serum for enhanced strength.” </p><p>Jason had barely kept himself from groaning. </p><p>“As if there’s anything else.” Dick had sighed.</p><p>They took the slightly longer route to their destination and tested Nightwing's new rappelling gun on Wayne Tower and when they landed on the roof of Gotham Pharmaceuticals, Red Robin was already there.</p><p>“Hey, Cindy.” Nightwing greeted.</p><p>“Hey, Marcia.” Tim replied, beaming.</p><p>“Names,” Jason growled, mockingly. His voice came out distorted and metallic. Then, when they turned to him, he said, “No, go ahead and take advantage of the only night the bossman isn’t here to scold you for using cutesy pet names.” </p><p>“Robin was right, you’re more pleasant as a cat,” Tim quipped back.</p><p>“Behave,” Nightwing said, moving to the edge of the roof. “I’m going to scout the top floor, then we’re moving in.” He disappeared, leaving the Replacement on the roof with Jason, who grinned under the helmet.</p><p>When Dick came back, Tim assaulted him with a question, sounding genuinely distressed. </p><p>“N, is it true that you let Red Hood sleep with you on the bed when he’s a cat?” </p><p>“I move around a lot,” Jason threw in.</p><p>“What?” Dick said, staring at them as if they’d lost their minds. “No? I’m allergic!” </p><p>Jason's shoulders shook with laughter. Nightwing snorted as Red Robin tried to trip Jason. </p><p>“When are you going to neuter him?” Tim snarked. That gave Jason pause.</p><p>“You little -”</p><p>“Red Robin, you did your research?” Nightwing asked, adopting his leader persona. Tim responded to it just as he’d been trained.</p><p>“Yes, I hacked into the lab’s database and started putting together an antidote. As soon as I get to the lab I’ll search for the missing pieces that should be on paper, and I’ll begin synthesizing it.”</p><p>“Then why are we here?” Jason asked, crossing his arms. To his back the Sparng River sang a dark song, drawing his attention to the upper island. His territory called to him.</p><p>“Because the feeds show Doctor Mathews in the lab tonight. Do you remember Oracle’s debrief about enhanced strength?” Nighting asked.</p><p>“Right, diversion.”</p><p>“We’ll give Red Robin time.” Nightwing nodded.</p><p>“So let me get this straight," Jason said, grinning with too much teeth. "We’re not here to be sophisticated, we’re here to fuck shit up.”</p><p>“Never say I don’t take you anywhere.” Nightwing grinned. “At my signal.”</p><p> </p><p>=  Ϫ  =</p><p> </p><p>“As the poets say, we’re fucked,” Red Hood said. </p><p>He evaded a desk thrown at his head and turned to shoot the man that had thrown it. He could take it. Once, Leslie had said that with the precision he had and the knowledge of the human body, he should’ve been a surgeon. It hadn't been a compliment. </p><p>He didn’t have to be that controlled in this fight, with this man that towered over them like a coliseum, that could punch with the force of a lion and roared like one too. But that was not why he thought they were fucked.</p><p>“Don’t be dramatic,” Nightwing said, avoiding the moving furniture and lab equipment, feet barely touching the ground. “He’s just a little bit on fire.”</p><p>The man, Dr. Mathews, was not so much on fire, rather than smoking. A faint orange hue glowed from behind his skin and smoke rose from his shoulders, as if his metabolism was working so fast that he’d set fire to his insides. He’d transformed as soon as he’d seen him.</p><p>“Red Robin, status?” Nightwing said into his comm. </p><p>“Five more minutes.” Came Tim’s voice through his helmet.</p><p>“We can do that,” Jason said.</p><p>Truth was, he didn’t mind this one bit. At first, he hadn’t realized he’d been doing it, but during the fight he’d started playing off Dick’s movements. Dick went high, he got low; Dick punched fast, he punched through. It wasn’t like fighting with Batman, this was altogether different, like learning a dialect of a language you already knew. It was addicting. Jason’s blood sang with it.</p><p>Five minutes might not seem like much, but in a fight, it was an eternity. Fighting together meant they tired less, but every minute that crept along was like a red flag in front of a bull, an invitation for something to go wrong. And it did.</p><p>Jason threw a small explosive, meant as a distraction, but with the heat their opponent was giving off, he threw it back with thrice the combustion heat. </p><p>“Shit.” Was all he’d time to say, before the explosion tore through a wall, raining burning hot debris on both of them. </p><p>Even with the  suit, Jason felt every part of his body ache. If he was ever going to turn back into a cat, it’d be now. </p><p>Nothing happened, though, Jason got back up just in time to watch Tim descend from the ceiling vent and land on the man’s back, injecting him with the antidote in the same movement.</p><p>Dick resurfaced from the rubble when the man returned to his original size and fell unconscious on the floor. Jason went to help him get up, but he waved him away.</p><p>“Are you ok?” Nightwing asked.</p><p>“Yes,” he said, brusquely. Then, on a whim: “Actually, no. I’m so badly hurt that I’m dying. Again.”</p><p>“Asshole.” Dick snorted. </p><p>They turned to find Red Robin already binding the man. He had one hand raised to his comm.</p><p>“Oracle already called the STAR lab guys, I’ve got this, if you want to go take a shower, you look like shit.”</p><p>“Thanks, Red,” Nightwing said, then looked up at Jason, one eyebrow raised.</p><p>“My place’s closer.” He shrugged. He regretted it when his ribs protested.</p><p> </p><p>=  Ϫ  =</p><p> </p><p>Dick raised an eyebrow at the display of swords and sabers on the wall, but it was an appreciative eyebrow, so Jason didn’t mind. He’d missed his apartment, he’d missed the high ceiling, the expensive rugs, the japanese tea set in the kitchen, the smell of home.  </p><p>The wall of windows showed night time Gotham, the perfect backdrop for Dick as he started peeling the Nightwing suit off. Jason was so distracted by the show of lights on bronze skin that he almost didn’t react in time to prevent Dick from dropping the suit right there on the floor. Dick made a soft sound, like a scoff but gentler, and danced around him to get to the bathroom.</p><p>Jason entertained himself by sending some encrypted emails to certain parties. It wouldn’t do for people to think the Red Hood was dead. </p><p>“You got a first aid kit I can burrow?” Dick asked as he exited the bathroom with a towel around his hips.</p><p>He was definitely worse for wear, scrapes and bruises all over, he had a nasty cut running down his side, and at least a couple of first degree burns. He still looked good. Too good for Jason’s sanity. </p><p>“Sure, but you owe me,” he said, and went to retrieve the two better stocked first aid kids in the apartment.</p><p>“Your turn,” Dick said as he took them with a nod toward the bathroom. </p><p>Contradicting his own words, Dick blocked the path to the bathroom, head held high, a smirk playing on his lips. Jason rocked forward, uncertain, keenly aware of his own desire and dizzy with the potential of his. As he finally passed Dick, every point where his skin touched Dick’s felt electrified.</p><p>The hot water brought to the surface the dull pain he’d been ignoring, and he tried to focus on that instead of how Dick now smelt like him after his own shower. It didn’t work, focusing on his body made it impossible to ignore that he was aroused, in fact, the throbbing pain joined the throbbing between his legs, highlighting it.</p><p>He shut off the shower, giving up.</p><p>When he emerged from the bathroom, water dripping from his hair, he found Dick cleaning a burn on the inside of his thigh, right above the knee. It must’ve hurt like a motherfucker. Jason wanted to put his mouth there.</p><p>He approached the back of the couch and stared down at him. If Dick perched, Jason loomed.</p><p>“Is it bad?” He asked.</p><p>Dick abandoned the wound, turning to face Jason, and smiled at him. Grayson charm aimed to the max.</p><p>“It’s awful,” he said. He used the back of the couch as a step and landed gracefully next to Jason. “I’m hot with a fever, I can feel the infection.” He raised a hand up to Jason’s face, wiping away a stain of blood that he’d missed. </p><p>Jason put his hand to his forehead, as is checking his temperature. He was indeed hot to the touch, but in that gloriously, perfect, alive way. “It’s too late for you.” He nodded sagely.</p><p>“Maybe,” Dick said. Jason buried his hand in his hair and pulled him up to kiss him. </p><p>Jason went crazy with the heat of his mouth, his scent sinking into his bones. Dick surged forward, clutching at him, dragging him closer. When Dick’s tongue touched his lips he opened for him, and the sound that pulled from Dick left him burning.</p><p>Jason pulled away and began kissing down Dick’s neck, nipping at his skin, Dick’s panting breath striking his shoulder with every inhale and exhale. Jason groaned against his collarbone and Dick gripped his sides, making him hiss in pain. Dick tried to pull away, but Jason didn’t let him. </p><p>“I’m fine, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”</p><p>“Fuck, Jason.” Dick was trembling.</p><p>Jason’s hand dipped under his towel, and he realized the trembling might’ve been more than desire when one of Dick’s knees gave out and Jason barely caught him. Dick’s elbow hit a tender spot and they both went down to the floor, landing hard in a heap on the cold floor.</p><p>Jason was still breathing hard when he said, “Alright, no fucking until at least a few hours of sleep.”</p><p>“Yes,” Dick said, but searched Jason’s mouth with his and kissed him, gentler this time, until he ran out of breath and pressed his mouth to the side of his face instead.</p><p> </p><p>=  Ϫ  =</p><p> </p><p>Dick’s side needed stitches. Jason did them for him, and when he was done he bent down to cut the thread with his teeth, his lips brushed his skin, feeling him shiver.</p><p>“Turn around,” Dick said. </p><p>Jason did, both of them were on the couch, it wasn't big enough for two men their size, but it made it easier for Dick to reach for him and press cold compresses to his shoulders. He draped himself over Jason’s back to cover a burn on his pec with ointment, before he retreated, Jason kissed the back of his hand. </p><p>“Can I stay?” </p><p>“I owe you at least a month of rent,” Jason said. “We can bring the self-warming pet pad so you can sleep there, later.”</p><p>“I let you sleep on my couch,” Dick protested.</p><p>They were deluding themselves if they thought Dick wouldn’t sleep in the bed with Jason. It was almost as exciting as the prospect of sex.</p><p>“At least I can get rid of the allergy meds,” Dick said against his lips before Jason coaxed his tongue into his mouth.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much to pentapus and empires for hosting this exchange you're the nicest, most patient people in the internet. </p><p>I took bits and pieces of the following books in case you're curious: Will my cat eat my eyeballs?, The stopping places: a journey through gypsy britain, the poetry collection Bloodsport by Yves Olade, plus the comics Gotham Central, and War Games.</p>
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